


While You Were Crying

by dametokillfor



Series: Things You Said [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Off Screen Violence, mentions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dametokillfor/pseuds/dametokillfor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An injured Clint, and 'Doctor' Nat have a little heart to heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While You Were Crying

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a little writing meme on [Tumblr](http://lilloury.tumblr.com/post/110395333021/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a) about 'things you said...' and I decided rather than asking for requests in my ask, I'd just write little ficlets for each of them in various pairings, and various fandoms. They're unlikely to be connected, so do jump about and find the ones that interest you! :)
> 
> This is for number eight, 'while you were crying'.

“Nat, I’m dying.” Clint says, through the tears streaming down his face, “I’m… I’m dying, Nat and I need you to execute the Lawnmower protocol.”

“You’re not dying, Clint.” Nat says, rinsing the forceps out in the bowl next to her. She flips her glasses down and leans further in to Clint’s bloody arm. The bullet is wedged in pretty deep and it’s going to hurt like unholy hell pulling it out, but it’s better than the alternative. It had hissed as it’d slid into his flesh, and turned the skin around it a nasty looking green colour. Nat wasn’t leaving that in her friends arm.

“I am.” Clint insists.

“Oh please, worst case scenario, you’ll lose an arm. I’m sure Stark could rig you up a prosthesis to rival Barnes’. He’ll probably even make it purple if you ask real nice.”

“He’ll make it furry. Oh, no, feathered.” Clint says, laughing a little. 

“Possibly with a cute little Care Bear heart on it, y’know, for the kids.” Nat says, with a smirk, “Okay, I’m going to pop the bullet out on three, okay?”

“So, on two then?” 

“Oh Clint,” Nat pops the knife.

Clint takes a deep breath, and looks up to the roof.

“One,” Nat digs the knife in and deftly flips the bullet out, as Clint shrieks in pain. 

Nat drops the bullet into the bowl, pushes her hair back with her forearm. She grins across at Clint, “Easy peasy.”

“SHIT, what the hell happened to two?”

“You’d have tensed. I don’t know what we’re going to do when you start expecting the pain on one.” 

“We’re going to get proper medical attention.” 

Nat chuckles, “Of course we are.”

She starts cleaning up his wound. The skin is still a green colour around the entry wound, but it’s looking less angry. _(Green, angry, heh)_. 

“Anyway, what is the Lawnmower protocol?” Nat asks. 

“Oh, that? Just something I’ve been thinking about recently. Snappy name, right?” 

“Incredibly, darling, and what is the Lawnmower protocol?” Nat picks up the gauze and presses it against the wound. 

“Not dying, seems pointless to tell you about it now.” Clint says.

Nat slaps the gauze, causing Clint to groan in pain again, “What’s the Lawnmower protocol?”

“I hate you so much.” Clint hisses, “Fine. It’s just… something I need you to do when I die. Wipe my internet history, wipe my records, make sure my money gets to Laura and the kids, make sure they know they were my last thoughts, the easy stuff.”

“Seems too obvious. What else is it?” Nat asks. She sticks the gauze down firmly, but gently. She pushes the glasses up off her face, grabs the bloodied towel from the side and wipes her hands down. There’s a moment of silence between them, less comfortable than usual.

“I need you completely destroy my body. Annihilate it. Burn it, burn the remains, completely get rid of it. I don’t want any trace of my DNA left.” 

“Jesus, Clint. You have any idea what you’re asking?”

“Nat, I’ve seen some crazy stuff. I’ve seen friends come back to life, when they shouldn’t have been able to. I’ve seen zombies, I’ve seen people control the dead. I’ve been controlled. I don’t want to be put in that position. I don’t want my family, you to be tormented like that.” Clint says, a few more tears escaping, “When I die, I want that to be it. If that means getting you to completely destroy me, then…”

“Clint…”

“Please, Nat. You’re the only person I can trust to do this.” 

Nat rubs her eyes, shakes her head. She takes a deep breath, “Okay. I’ll do it. But you don’t get to die til I’m sick of you, okay?”

“I’ve always figured you’d be the one who killed me anyway.” Clint says with a smile, “Probably due to some terrible joke in the middle of a mission.”

“I’ve always hoped it’d be that way.” Nat says, smiling at him. 

“It’s the dream.” Clint reaches across, grabs her hand, “Thank you, Nat.”

She squeezes his hand, presses a kiss to the knuckles, “Anytime.”

She drops his hand, lets Clint sit up and take a look at his injured arm. He pokes at it, whimpers in pain, something that always drives Nat mad. Why poke something you know hurts?

She throws a shirt at his head, “Stop poking it!”

Clint pulls the shirt off his head, “I wasn’t poking it. I was testing the integrity of the bandage.”

Nat shakes her head as Clint pulls the shirt on. She picks up her make shift med kit and starts heading to the small bathroom in the safe house. She pauses at the door for a second and looks back at Clint.

“Lawnmower protocol?” 

“You’ve never seen Brain Dead?” 

“Brain Dead?” Nat sighs, “We’re having another trashy classic horror night, aren’t we?”

“Damn right!”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why Clint's named his drastic request the 'lawnmower protocol', [here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RC1d7dw24Gg) the clip from Brain Dead. Warning, it's VERY gory and VERY NSFW, but it is an effectively zombie murder method.
> 
> Do come and squee with me on [Tumblr](http://damnstevens.tumblr.com).


End file.
